A Very Gondor Christmas
by The Last Evenstar
Summary: When a 'few' unexpected guests show up, Aragorn's and Arwen's quiet family Christmas turns out to be a memorable occasion! And will there be a new addition to Gondor's royal family amidst the chaos? NOW COMPLETE! MERRY CHRISTMAS!
1. It's Beginning to Look Like Christmas

****

A Very Gondor Christmas

By The Last Evenstar

****

Disclaimer: If I were indeed J.R.R. Tolkien, you can bet that this story would not be relegated to fanfiction.net and would instead be published worldwide and translated into at least twenty-six different languages. But is isn't, and from this you can deduce that I own neither the characters or the places mentioned here.

Now look, you've made me cry.

****

A/N: OK, OK, so I know that, especially this time of year, there are literally thousands of LOTR Christmas stories floating about, and yes, I'm aware that they didn't have Christmas in Middle-Earth. But hey – I couldn't resist. There's something about the spirit of Christmas that does that to me. Enjoy!

****

Chapter One: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas 

Arwen stood on the balcony and smiled to herself. From behind her sharp Elven ears picked up the footsteps of her husband as he made his way up to her. Just as he made to wrap his arms around her, she spoke. "I could still hear you coming."

Aragorn laughed and embraced her anyway, his arms straining to fit around her bulging stomach. "I can't fool you, can I, Lady Undomiel?"

She laughed and planted a kiss on his blue lips. "Never."

The King shivered and pulled his wife closer. "The air is changing quickly. Winter has arrived in full force."

"The snow is beautiful, isn't it?" Arwen looked out over the glistening kingdom. "It makes everything it covers appears so pristine; so perfect."

Aragorn laughed and brushed the falling flakes from her hair. "You needed no help with that, my love."

She turned, her cheeks flushed and her smile radiant. "This is Eldarion's first snowfall that he may remember. Last year he was naught but a babe."

Aragorn grinned and lovingly patted his wife's enormous stomach. "And our second will see his first winter this year."

"Or HER first."

Aragorn surveyed her face. "You really want a daughter, don't you?"

She shook her head. "A healthy child is all I need." Smiling up at her husband, she conceded. "A daughter would be nice, though."

He beamed back at her. "Our little Christmas present." Shivering, he made his way back towards the door. "Arwen, you really should come inside – even if you can't freeze, the baby might!"

She walked toward him, a mischievous smile playing across her lips. :You're standing under the mistletoe, my Lord."

He looked up. "So I am."

Legolas watched his friend Gimli grumble in the corner and sighed. A disagreement over where to spend the Christmas holidays had caused a hefty rift between the elf and the dwarf. They had been traveling together for over a year, but now that the season of Christmas had come, Legolas wished to return to the remains of Mirkwood, but Gimli was dead set of going home to his family. Neither wished to be parted for the merry festivities, but it seemed the only option as of late. Legolas winced as her recalled his harsh words earlier. "You go your way, dwarf, and I shall go mine!"

He knew that the stubborn dwarf would not be wont to reconcile easily, so of course it was up to him to make the first move. He went over and sat beside his friend. "I apologize, Master Dwarf, for my abruptness as of late."

Gimli huffed but did not respond.

"An idea has come to me – a compromise, if you will." Gimli watched the elf warily, waiting. "I propose that we spend Christmas with the King at Minas Tirith. They will be sure to have a lovely banquet and enjoyable festivities. What say you?"

Gimli smiled up at his friend. "I'd say we have a deal!"

Merry and Pippin watched Samwise grimly from across the square. It was a feast, a celebration of someone-or-other's birthday, but Sam sat solemnly, watching the merriment with tired eyes.

"What d'you reckon could be the matter?" Merry asked. Both had been worried about Sam as of late.

"He misses Frodo," guessed Pippin wisely. "Been moping about for months now since Fro's gone."

Merry frowned. He hated to see his friend so down. "What might cheer him up? After all, Christmas is approaching fast, and no hobbit should be unhappy."

Pippin spoke glumly. "I reckon he needs to get out of the Shire. A vacation, like."

"You don't suggest . . . But Pippin, where could he go? Hobbits are not travelers."

Pippin sat, thinking hard. "You know, I think a change of scenery could do us all good. I've been missing the open road as of late."

Merry groaned. "And that, my dear Pippin, is what comes of hobbits taking adventures. No peace, mind you. Only want for more!"

Pippin shrugged. "I'd still like to see Minas Tirith again. We could make a right thing out of it! Spend Christmas at King Strider's court. See old friends, have new fun . . ."

Merry considered. "I might enjoy that. It has been far too long." He thought. "You talk to Sam. I'll ask Estella; I'm sure she'll need quite a bit of talking 'round."

Pippin grinned. "Christmas in Gondor! What fun we'll have!"

Faramir wrung his hands in frustration. "Eowyn, for the last time, we are NOT going to Rohan for Christmas! Don't you remember last year at ALL?"

Eowyn glared at her husband defensively. "So the weather was a bit bad and the mood . . . not so merry. But –"

Faramir cut her off. "The very snow stunk of manure, your brother, the KING, was so drunk he decreed his HORSE his heir, and I was trapped in a snow bank for eight hours!"

Eowyn bit her lip. "Oh, Faramir, I know, believe me! But I can't –" her eyes welled up with soft tears, "I can't be away from my family on Christmas. It's too hard."

Faramir sighed, his heart melting. "I know, my dear. But the king is counting on my presence at several functions of state, and I want to be there for him when he has his child. You remember how distraught he got last time . . ."

Eowyn leaped up, a sudden happiness seizing her. "Oh, Faramir, I've the most wonderful idea! Why don't we invite my family here for Christmas? I mean, I know Eomer is the King and all, but I'm sure they'd have a lovely time staying here!"

Faramir looked doubtful. "I don't know . . ."

"Oh, darling, it will be wonderful fun! I'll go send word right now!!"

As his wife danced her way out of the room, Faramir shrugged. So the royal court of Rohan was coming to Gondor for Christmas. It wasn't like the King had any other guests . . .

Arwen snuggled contentedly against her husband as they sat by the fire, watching the snow outside the window fall. "I'm so looking forward to Christmas. Just a nice, peaceful family affair . . ."

Will Aragorn and Arwen be able do handle all of their 'guests' come time for Christmas? Do you care? Then review, and you shall reap the rewards!


	2. Over the River and Through the Woods

****

A Very Gondor Christmas

By The Last Evenstar

****

Chapter Two: Over the River and Through the Woods

Pippin nudged his pony on and strove to keep in stride with Merry. "Merry! Wait up!" His friend had been downtrodden and gloomy ever since his fiancée, Estella Bolger, had refused to accompany him to Gondor for Christmas.

Merry snorted. "Look at them!" He gesticulated madly at Sam and Rosie, riding side-by-side and whispering happily. "And this trip was supposed to relieve HIS gloom!"

Pippin sighed. "Look on the bright side, Merry-lad! We can relieve YOUR gloom instead!"

Merry scowled. "There would be no gloom if we hadn't come!"

Pippin looked around at the countryside path. "We must be almost halfway by now. There'll be no use turning back."

"I didn't say I wanted to turn back. In fact, there's no way I'm going back to the Shire and facing that smug little vixen!"

"Estella? Smug? VIXEN?"

The hobbit's scowl deepened. "I need to forget all about her. This better be one hell of a Christmas!"

Pippin grinned suddenly. "With you and me? Merry, old man, you forget who the Shire's best merrymakers are!"

But Merry had stopped dead in his tracks, mouth wide open. "Pippin, I do think we went the wrong way."

In front of the hobbits was a wide, gaping river, racing rapidly and churning so violently that Pippin felt his stomach turn. "That we did."

Sam and Rosie caught up and turned to Pippin accusingly. "You said you knew the way!" exclaimed Sam. "No one said nothin' to me 'bout crossin' no river!"

Pippin bit his lip guiltily. "Must've been a wrong turn," he muttered.

Rosie looked distressed, and Sam slid a comforting arm around her waist. Merry scowled at their interaction, but neither took notice. "Can you find your way back?" asked Sam.

"Perhaps," suggested Pippin, "it would be better to try and find a place to cross."

"Oh, no!" Sam almost knocked Rosie off the horse with his vehemence. "No, sir! I ain't touchin' no river, an' Rose here ain't neither!"

Merry scowled in annoyance. "Why not?"

"You know well, Meriadoc Brandybuck, how a-feared I am of water!"

"You mean you can brave the wrath of the Dark Lord and trek across Mount Doom, Sam, but not find the courage to ride a horse across shallow water?"

Sam surveyed the river. "It don't look shallow to me!"

Merry, half-crazed with anxiety and desperation, turned on his pony and galloped downstream. "Follow me!"

Pippin bit his lip and followed suit. Rosie turned to Sam. "Go on. We'll be safe atop old Bill Junior."

Sam sighed, then trotted off less than willingly. "I have a feeling we'll regret this."

"Just a short stop. I promise, Gimli!"

The dwarf was on his last nerve. "No! You elves natter about for hours, I've seen you!"

"But Gimli, we're passing right by there! I can't NOT drop in and say hello to my last remaining cousins!"

Gimli was losing patience fast. "But our agreement! We agreed NOT to go to Mirkwood! That was the whole point of COMPROMISE!"

"We won't stay there! I just want to say hello!"

Gimli closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but it was no use. "Anger management guru, bah!" He opened his eyes. "Now – Legolas? Legolas?"

"Ada! I want to do it!"

Aragorn smiled happily as he looked down at his small son. "You're too small, my boy. Only Ada can reach the top of the tree."

Eldarion screwed up his face. "I want to! I want to!"

As Arwen laughed, Aragorn looked hopelessly at the tall tree and the small boy. He gingerly picked up the child and handed him the heavy star. "Real mirthril, you know. Comes from the dwarves."

Eldarion struggled. "Heavy!"

Aragorn carefully guided his son's hand to the top of the White Tree, where he helped Eldarion secure the star. "There! You did it!"

The child clapped his hands in delight as he was carefully lowered to the ground. "Look, Naneth! Look!"

Arwen beamed at him. "It's lovely, Eldarion! To think you did it all by yourself!"

The boy smiled modestly. "Ada helped some."

As the three stood, marveling, at the shining tree, Faramir stumbled into the courtyard. "My Lord!"

Aragorn turned, unhappy that his happy family moment had been broken. "What is it, Faramir?"

"You'd better come quickly."

Aragorn raced through the halls with the Steward, arriving at last in the House of Healing. "What is it? Who is hurt?"

Inside the room, a wet, bedraggled little figure stood, wrapped in woolen blankets and sipping an herbal broth by the fire.

"Merry!" cried Aragorn. "What happened? What are you doing here?"

The hobbit faced his friend gravely. "I've made a terrible miscalculation, that's what! There's no time to lose; send men down to Entwash immediately!"

"What's wrong?"

Merry groaned and shook his head. "I tried to cross the river with Pippin, Sam, and Rosie Cotton."

"But WHY?"

"We were coming to visit you! But you know hobbits and rivers aren't meant to mix. Last I saw of Pippin and the rest, they were being washed downstream toward Rohan."

The King gasped. "Merry, that was foolish indeed! There's no hope of finding them now!"

The hobbit looked up at Aragorn with woeful eyes. "But you must! Oh, this is all my fault!"

Just then, Beregond of the Tower Guard came in. "My Lord! We have a legion of visiting elves requesting your presence!"

Aragorn stared. "Elves? You mean Elladen and Elrohir?"

"No, they arrived an hour ago! Your wife is with them now. These elves have arrived from Mirkwood in the company of Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli, Gloin's son."

Aragorn gaped. "Are they here to stay for Christmas?"

"I think so."

Aragorn groaned and headed out. "Faramir, you send men out to look for the lost hobbits. Beregond, find a place for all the elves. I am going to make eggnog! Nice, quiet, family eggnog!"

Eomer paused and reigned in his horse. "Do you hear something?"

Lothliriel, on a golden mare, strained her ears. "The noises are too high-pitched to be human. It sounds as if a horse were crying out in pain!"

The men of Rohan shuddered collectively. "A horse? In trouble? We must do something!"

As his men all rode off in the direction of the cries, Eomer turned to his wife contemplatively. "Do you know, I sometimes get the feeling they're a little obsessed."

She patted his arm reassuringly. "I wouldn't worry."

In a few moments, the men returned, dragging three wet horses and tiny bodies. "Children! Drowned in the river!"

Eomer examined them. "They're not children, and they're still breathing. I've seen these creatures before, they are halflings, or hobbits. Come, we must ride with swiftness to Minas Tirith if they are to be healed!"

"And then he bit Frodo's finger clear off and, what do you know, fell into the pit of fire!" Eldarion listen, his eyes wide. "I even wrote a song about it: Nine-Fingered Frodo and the Ring of Doom. Of course, that was backing in my hippie days. Living off the land, sing-a-longs in Rivendell, trying to find the meaning of life, that kind of thing."

"What's a hippie?" the child inquired.

"Oh, well, we called ourselves rangers. Never washed, long hair –"

"What are you telling my son?" Arwen stood in the doorway, an amused smile dancing across her lips. "Eldarion, what is your silly Ada filling your head with?"

She sat down and the little boy ran over to sit in her already-full lap. "Naneth, can I be a ranger when I grow up?"

Arwen smiled affectionately. "You're going to be a King, my little Dunadain. Just like your Ada."

"I want to be a ranger!"

Aragorn laughed heartily. "There's no getting around it, meleth, ranger is in the boy's blood."

"So long as he returns to kingship as accordingly as yourself, I do not mind." She smiled at her husband. "I once fell in love with a ranger."

Eldarion wrinkled his nose. "That won't happen to me. Bergil told me girls are yucky."

Aragorn's laughter was interrupted by Faramir's abrupt entrance. He groaned. "What is it now?"

Faramir took a deep breath. "Eomer and the Rohirrm have arrived with the missing hobbits in tow. We do not have enough room for all of our guests, and there are several already setting up tents in the dining hall. All wish for your presence. The elves profess to require a special exfoliating conditioner and are already out of shampoo. A corridor occupied by the Rohirrm I suggest you quarantine, for the smell is abominable. There are horses everywhere, for our stables are only so large. The sick hobbits have already ordered up half the Royal Kitchen. Legolas has organized a steering committee for 'Christmas Festivities'. I believe they are planning a pageant. They wish to have Lady Arwen for Mary –"

"Stop!" cried Aragorn, distressed. "Stop! What is going on here? Who invited all these people?"

"I believe the majority invited themselves, my Lord."

"Well, see how many you can get rid of! And tell Legolas that he may not plan any pageants, balls, or parties!" He slumped in despair. "This was supposed to be nice, and quiet . . ."

Arwen, seeing her husband's distress, broke in. "Why not let them stay? We'll just have a bigger party this year. And tell Legolas we'd be very grateful if he'd organize the events, but none involving myself, please."

Faramir shrugged. "My Lord?"

"What she said," Aragorn mumbled.

With Legolas as event planner and guests aplenty, what will happen to the quaint family Christmas we were all looking forward to? One tiny hint: Lots of custard!


	3. Walking in a Winter Wonderland

****

A Very Gondor Christmas

By The Last Evenstar

A/N: This is not a particularly good or funny chapter, but essential to the storyline. Because if nothing gets hectic and unpromising, then how will it be soppy and joyous at the end?

****

Chapter Three: Walking in a Winter Wonderland

"Ada! Ada!" Aragorn groaned and rolled over.

"Nmph?"

Eldarion was jumping excitedly on his father's bed. "Ada! Wake up! It's Christmas Eve!'

Aragorn tried to block out the noise with a pillow. "Nmmm! Hmmphnndmm, fmmm!"

"Ada! You promised to give me ride!"

The king rolled over and stared blearily at his son. "I did!"

"Yes! You promised you take me on horsey ride! On Christmas Eve!"

Aragorn tried to recall making such a promise. "If I did, I didn't mean at the crack of dawn!" He peered out the window. The sun was shining in the sky. He sat bolt upright. "Eldarion! Why didn't Naneth wake me up? I have things to do today!"

The little boy shrugged. "I don't know. Can we go now?"

Aragorn sat up and struggled out of bed. "Not yet, Eldarion. Maybe tonight, or this afternoon if I have time."

The child's lower lip trembled. "I wanna go now, Ada!"

Aragorn groaned. "Why don't you go play with Bergil?"

"Bergil's too busy with Pippin." Eldarion looked up sadly. "They said I'm too little to play with them."

"Hmmmmm." Aragorn ushered his son out absently. "Maybe you can build a snowman."

Upon entering the hall, he was bombarded with at least twenty people trying to get his attention.

"Aragorn!" cried Legolas, rushing up to his old friend. "How are you, mate?"

Aragorn blinked, a little disoriented. "Legolas! Hello! And Gimli! What a pleasure!" He frowned. "Did I invite you?"

"No harm in a little unexpected visit!" roared the dwarf. "Merry Christmas!"

He looked over at the legion of Mirkwood elves. "Did I invite THEM?"

"No," laughed Legolas, "just a few cousins tagging along!"

"I always said Elves breed like rabbits," grumbled Gimli.

Aragorn turned his attention to the Rohirrm. "Who invited THEM?"

Faramir turned apologetically from a few feet away. "Eowyn. You know she gets homesick –"

"And where did all the hobbits come from?"

"Oh, you know, just well-wishers from the Shire. When they heard about the accident –"

Aragorn shook his head in despair. "I give them a whole big country to themselves, and they have to bring all of Hobbiton HERE for Christmas?" He turned back to Faramir. "Where is Arwen?"

"Outside, I think."

"In this weather? She'll be the death of them both!" He looked around for his son. "Eldarion?"

He saw Lothliriel coming toward him. "Your son went off with Eomer. A horse ride, I think."

"Are you JOKING?" Aragorn's head felt like it was splitting open. There were horses in the dining room, Elves singing carols, hobbits making pudding, and where was his family? What happened to the peaceful Christmas?

"Aragorn! I hope it's all right that I arranged a banquet tonight –"

"King Elessar! I wish to have a word when –"

"My apologies, King, for the mess, but –"

"Estel! We need –"

Aragorn covered his ears and tried to find his way outside. But once he reached the outer wall, he found not the usual solitude, but an army of hobbits flinging snowballs from a catapult. Running down to the courtyard, he found a group of Rohirrm drinking and singing loudly,

"Good King Numenor went down,

"On the feast of Stephen!

"When the snow lay all around,

"Deep and crisp and even!"

Groaning, he made his way to the White Tree. Arwen was sitting there, looking quite alarmed by the commotion. "Arwen!" He sat down next to her. "What in Eru's name is going on here?"

"I haven't the faintest! I went to wake Eldarion, but when I tried to get back to you, the hall was so crowded that I couldn't get into the bedchamber! Aragorn, where have all these people come from?"

He shook his head. "I have no idea. But it appears that our son has gone gallivanting off with Eomer!"

She sighed. "Is that wise? You know how roughly Eomer rides!"

"I didn't give him permission! They just rode off . . . and the town boys are raging war against the hobbits, and there are horses running wild inside the house, not to mention all the unauthorized festivities that seem to be going on! I simply cannot escape!"

Arwen looked mournfully at the snow-laden branches of the tree they had decorated the night before. "I was so looking forward to a nice, quiet Christmas . . . as a family . . . taking sleigh rides, making eggnog, getting Eldarion into the spirit of the holiday, and now he's nowhere to be seen and God forbid I should try to fight my way into my own kitchen!"

She collapsed against his shoulder, tired of ranting. He patted her swollen belly. "At least we're all here together." They looked around at the snow freshly falling and the glistening White City. "It is a beautiful place."

She smiled. "Wonderful. But the drunken Rohirrm kind of lessen the view."

Legolas worked his way through the crowd until he found the Steward. "Faramir!"

Faramir turned dourly around, with the hangdog look of an overworked man. "What is it now, Legolas?"

"I just thought you should know that your wife left with Lothliriel an hour ago to take a 'brisk, ten-minute walk' and has not yet returned. Also, we need all the horses out of the dining hall for tonight's show. Plus, we've had several complaints about troublesome hobbits and the townsmen are threatening to blockade if they are not dealt with. Oh, and we were wondering if you'd like to play a wise man in tonight's pageant –"

"Stop!' Faramir held up his hand. "We can't get the horses out, lest they should decide to rampage Minas Tirith. I'm sure Eowyn and Lothliriel will be fine, but if they don't show up soon, send out a search party. Tell the hobbits that someone's made custard; that will throw them off. And cancel the bloody pageant!" He turned and walked away from the despondent elf, just to run head-on into a sopping Eomer, leading his horse into the hall. Eldarion was trailing behind, wet to the core and shivering madly.

Faramir groaned. "Eldarion, go find Imrahil. Tell her to give you something so as you don't freeze to death! And where are your parents?"

Aragorn and Arwen sat in silence, gazing out at the bustling kingdom. "It seems that I have worn out my usefulness as King," remarked Aragorn.

Just then, Faramir came rushing up. "Thank goodness I found you! The situation inside is dire. Fights have been breaking out and several have gone missing. Legolas is STILL planning a pageant, and he insists that we fit everyone into the dining hall to see it. Eldarion is ill, we're afraid, from the cold. And those bloody Rohirrm will NOT STOP SINGING!" He paused, out of breath. "And we're out of custard." With that, he turned on his heel and sped back inside.

Arwen looked up mournfully. "No chance of sleigh rides or eggnog now, I suppose."

Aragorn stood. "I have no idea how to deal with all these people! Poor Eldarion, this will not be a merry Christmas for him! Oh, what am I to do?"

"You could send them away," suggested Arwen.

"Yes, but on Christmas Eve? I don't think –" 

Arwen suddenly gasped and clutched at her stomach. "Aragorn!"

He looked puzzled. "If you want them gone THAT badly –"

"It's not that! My waters have broken!"

A/N: Dun dun DUN.


	4. Twas the Night Before Christmas

****

A Very Gondor Christmas

By The Last Evenstar

****

Chapter Four: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas

Legolas was choreographing a dance routine for his pageant when it happened. He would remember the moment as on of doubly great joy, for just as Aragorn burst through the hall doors his dancers had gotten the _hop-spin-kick-spin_ sequence right for the first time.

"Everybody stop!" The King's shout rang throughout the hall. "Get out now! The Queen is having her baby!"

At once there was a flurry of activity. Everyone, in trying to get out of the way, succeeded only in getting in it. Legolas looked on helplessly as his dance team broke and scattered. 

Aragorn was close to hysterics. "Somebody find Imrahil! Now! Clear the way!" He led a calm Arwen into the hall. "Take it easy! Are you all right? Do you need help?" He turned on a hapless Faramir. "Where's Eowyn? She's supposed to assist the Queen!"

Faramir shrugged. "Out, I suppose. With Lothliriel."

Aragorn guided his wife into their bedchamber, only to find the room full of hobbits playing and elaborate Christmas drinking game. "Out!" he roared. "Out now! The Queen is giving birth!"

Arwen winced and gave him a pained smile. "I'm not giving birth ye –" She winced and doubled over as her first contraction came. "Aragorn!"

"It's all right, I'm here, I'm all right." He laid her softly on the bed. She was almost writhing in pain. The sight stabbed him to the very heart. "Arwen, meleth nin, I'm here, I've got you!"

Her words came through gritted teeth. "This – is – all – your – fault!"

"Arwen, oh, I'm sorry! We'll never have another baby –"

She relaxed as her contraction ended. "I was joking. But please, I need Imrahil!"

Aragorn turned to the array of hobbits, who had been watching their exchange with fascination. "You heard the Queen! Go find Imrahil! She's an old nurse . . . answers to the name of Imrahil . . ." His mind felt like it was escaping. As the hobbits scurried out, he tried to gain control over his thoughts. _Unexpected visitors . . . ruined family Christmas . . . Legolas' pageant . . . my child is about to be born!_

He kneeled by Arwen's bed and grasped her hand so tight she cried out in pain. "Is it coming? What do I need to do?"

She laughed, a hard edge to her voice. "Relax, Aragorn. It will be hours and hours before the baby comes. I should not be so lucky as to have it soon."

"I'll be right here. I'll stay by your side through the whole thing –"

"Lord Aragorn?" Imrahil entered the room, several nurses in tow. "Your son is crying out for you. I suggest you see him immediately."

Seeing the hesitation in her husband's eyes, Arwen urged him out. "Go. I've done this before; I'll be all right."

He turned to Imrahil. "Send for me directly if anything happens."

She bowed. "Yes, Lord."

The king stumbled blindly down the hall. On his way, he could hear snippets of conversation, but his head was too full to absorb anything.

"I didn't know she was actually pregnant! I thought it was sort of a Christmas-themed costume!"

"Pippin, you are the stupidest of all creatures I know!"

"That's it! _Heel-spin-toe-spin-fall!_ Spirit fingers, everybody!"

"You're saying that my wife and sister are missing and you've done nothing about it?"

"I'm sorry, Eomer, it's been so hectic –"

_Hectic_, thought Aragorn. _Yes, it has been hectic._

He entered his son's room and found the boy wrapped up in a plethora of quilts. "Eldarion, my son! What happened?"

The child's voice was small and weak. "I'm sorry, Ada. I went horsey-ride with Eyore-mir. He got me cold."

The king sat by his son's bed. "That's all right, my boy. I'm not mad."

Eldarion sniffled. "Now I'm sick for Christmas Eve." He looked so forlorn that Aragorn wanted to laugh.

"Ah, you've just got a cold, maybe a case of the chills. You'll be up and terrorizing the populace before you know it."

"Ter-er-eye-zing?"

Aragorn thought. "Behaving like a ranger instead of a Prince."

The boy settled back into his bed, satisfied. "Tell me stories of when you were a ranger."

"Hmmmm." Aragorn smiled as he recalled long-distant memories. "I'll tell you the story of Mirkwoodstock. It was back in the summer of sixty-nine . . ."

"Sixty-nine?"

"2969*. Back in the Second Age. I was a young ranger, your mother had dismissed me and broken my heart, and on my way to Rohan . . ."

". . . and by the time we got to Mirkwoodstock, we were half a million strong! There was song, and celebration . . ." Aragorn looked over to see his son sleeping quietly, sucking his thumb. He smiled and lifted the quilts over the small boy. "Sleep well, Eldarion." Suddenly, he remembered Arwen and the baby. Gasping and jumping up, he pondered how much time had gone by. He raced down the hall, narrowly avoiding four hobbits and a scullery maid.

Aragorn swung open the chamber doors with hasty authority. "Arwen! What's happening? Did I miss it?"

Imrahil glared him into meek submission. Arwen lay on the bed, gasping painfully. Aragorn turned to the nurse in desperation. "Can't you make that stop?"

Imrahil rolled her eyes. "You'd think that he might remember anything at all about last time," she said to Arwen, who gave a weak chuckle.

A young nurse stepped forward. "Only thirty seconds. You have a while yet."

Aragorn groaned. _How can I take this? _He knelt by the bed and squeezed his wife's hand. "It's all right, meleth. Just breathe. I'm right here."

Imrahil snorted. "Breathe. So he does remember."

A servant girl approached Aragorn. "Begging pardon, Your Highness, but Master Legolas would like a word concerning the pageant to be held tonight."

Aragorn scowled. "I thought I told him to pageant!"

Arwen cut in, her face red and brow damp with sweat. "Let him have it."

Aragorn rolled his eyes. "All right. Tell him I don't care, do whatever he wants." Disturbing images immediately filled his mind. "Within reason!"

Faramir was frantic. _What could have happened to them? They were just going for a walk! _He shook his head and tried to clear his mind. _Eowyn and Lothliriel left three hours ago for a brisk, ten-minute walk. Where did they go?_ It was hopeless. He wandered into the courtyard despondently, hoping that the search parties would find his wife and her sister-in-law. He glanced at the sky. It was quickly growing dark. _Eowyn!_

"My Lord Faramir!" The Steward turned to see Beregond running toward him. "Come quickly! We have located the ladies Eowyn and Lothliriel in a dire state of emergency!"

Faramir took off. "What is it? Where are they?"

Beregond's breath shone in the cold. "Trapped in a snowbank off of the outer wall!"

Faramir ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He reached the wall where several guards were trying frantically to dig against the pouring snow. "Eowyn! Eowyn! Can you hear me?"

A voice echoed dully from the cave-in. "Jolly-well. Did you bring me snow-be-gone in a jar?"

Eomer had also arrived, and was squinting through the growing storm. "Is Lothliriel all right?"

It was Eowyn who answered. "She's very cold. Her lips are blue and she's half-conscious."

Eomer began to attack the snow viciously. "Dammit, why is it so hard?"

Faramir strained to see his friend. "It's a blizzard, coming in full force! We have to get them out!"

In the icy shelter, they could hear Eowyn trying to make light of it. "Chestnuts rooooooasting on an open fire! Jack Froooooooost gnawing off your nose!"

Eomer groaned. "Make it stop!" With a burst of strength, he succeeded in grabbing Eowyn's hand through the iciness. Faramir looked on in relief as the guards managed to extract the two women. He rushed over to Eowyn and wrapped her in his cloak, heedless of the dropping temperature. 

Lothliriel looked half-dead. "That was the worst three hours of my life!"

Eomer guided her gently inside. "Were you that cold? Your coat looks pretty heavy to me . . ."

"I meant being trapped in a five-foot cave-in with your sister."

The King nodded. "That would be terrifying."

Aragorn winced as each contraction came.

"They're getting longer and closer," remarked Imrahil. "It won't be long now."

Just as Arwen breathed deeply for a short respite, a servant girl approached Aragorn once again. "Excuse me, my Lord, but Master Legolas wishes to move the festivities to midnight so you and perhaps the Queen will be able to attend."

Aragorn's nerves were frayed; he spoke sharply. "The Queen will not be attending any festivities anytime soon! Tell Legolas to do whatever he wants, but I'm having a baby right now, so don't bother me!"

The girl scampered off, a little frightened. Aragorn turned back to his wife. "Come on, Arwen, you can do it. Do it for the daughter you want!"

Imrahil watched grimly as the Queen began to moan once more. "Here it comes."

*Check the book. This is in the actual years when Aragorn goes out and has all his ranger-like adventures. *gloats* I am so acurate! Take that, Hanna Soorosh!


	5. What Child Is This?

****

A Very Gondor Christmas

By The Last Evenstar

****

Chapter Five: What Child Is This?

Faramir shook his head as he stood over his wife. "Only you, Eowyn. Only you."

The shieldmaiden grimaced from her bed in the House of Healing. "So it was my fault. It could easily have happened to anyone else!"

Faramir grinned lovingly and sat down by her. "But it happened to you, like so much else does. One of these days you're going to find yourself in real danger."

Eowyn rolled her eyes. "I've had real danger. It's not that much fun. And no one could have seen that throwing that snowball might cause an avalanche."

"You see what I mean? No one else I know can manage to get an avalanche out of a snowball!"

"You don't know Pippin? My aim was having an off day!"

"Your aim was very precise. You managed to hit the exact spot that would cause all that snow to fall from the overhang. A remarkable feat for a snowball."

"It had a rock inside."

"Oh."

"Yes." They lapsed into silence, Faramir chuckling softly to himself. Across the room, Eldarion began to cry.

"I want my Naneth!"

Eowyn looked around. "Where is Imrahil?"

"Assisting the Queen. Why don't you comfort him?"

"Me? I hate children!"

Eldarion raised his voice. "I'm the prince! Somebody get my Naneth!"

Despite herself, Eowyn collapsed in hopeless laughter. "Faramir, why don't you take him to Legolas' pageant?"

The Steward bit his lip. "He's sick, Eowyn. Aragorn would have my head if anything happened."

Eldarion was now jumping up and down on the bed, wailing. "He doesn't look that sick to me."

Just then, Eomer and a party of Rohirrm entered loudly and bounded over to the bed where Lothliriel was resting.

"Deck the halls with bows of holly!

"Fa la la la la, la la la la!"

The Queen of the Riddermark groaned and buried her head in a pillow. "It was bad enough that Eowyn should sing for three hours straight, worse that I should have to listen, and now you come in here to heap upon my misery?"

Eomer's voice was jolly and more than a little slurred. "Come, my love! Join in the merriment! There's no reason to stay here, you have but a slight cold!"

Lothliriel managed to drag herself out of bed and smile blearily at her husband. "You're going to make me watch Legolas' pageant, aren't you?"

Pippin, Sam, and Merry were sitting in a corner with Rosie, Estella, and one of their friends when a frantic Legolas rushed up to them. "Help! I need your help!"

Pippin leapt up, fumbling with a butter knife. "Who is after you?"

Legolas brushed his hand back. "A few ladies in waiting. But that's not important." He cleared his throat and put on a pleading look. "We need a baby for our pageant."

Sam looked confused. "We didn't bring Elanor, sir. And if we had, she'd still be a bit big."

Legolas looked crestfallen. "You didn't? I'm sure I saw a hobbit child running around yesterday. And, well – she's a hobbit, Sam, no, offense, she could be ten and still the right size."

Merry looked up. "Where'd you see the child, Legolas? I didn't think anyone came but our friends and Rosie's."

"In the kitchen. Silly little thing was taking advantage of the mayhem and stealing cookies."

Pippin felt his face go red. "That was me, I think."

Legolas clapped his hands in delight. "Perfect! You can be Jesus!"

Pippin backed away, his butter knife pointed carefully. "No! Stay away from me!"

"Oh, please!" Legolas pleaded. "It's almost showtime!"

"No!"

The elf sighed. "You have no Christmas spirit."

"Just because I won't humiliate myself by acting as an infant?" Pippin muttered as he walked away.

The other five were laughing hysterically. Rosie's friend looked up shyly at Pippin. "I think you'd make an adorable baby."

The hobbit scowled. "You'd make an adorable dish of custard."

She giggled. "Thanks! I love custard."

"Really? So do I!"

She giggled again. "Let's go raid the kitchen!"

Pippin smiled gratefully for this relief and took her arm. "What's your name, lass?"

"Diamond."

"Arwen! You can do it, Arwen! I'm here for you, meleth nin!" Aragorn's mouth was no longer his own. Behind the words of encouragement was terror. This birth was taking longer than Eldarion's, and seemed to cause his wife more pain than he remembered. Just looking at her in such a state made him furious and terrified at the same time.

Imrahil glanced up. "All right. It's time. Arwen, PUSH!"

The Queen's lip bled as she bit it to sustain from screaming. Aragorn did hear cries of pain as Arwen suffered, but realized they came from himself. In trying to draw them back he choked and fell to the floor, hearing somewhere in his mind the clock strike midnight. When he looked up, Arwen was sobbing joyfully and Imrahil was holding up a bloody child, wailing for all it was worth.

"It's a girl!"

As Arwen's sobs turned practically to jubilant hysterics, Aragorn stared in wonderment at the child. It made no difference that he had done this before; all that mattered was this precious baby, his baby, Arwen's baby, their baby.

The infant was lowered slowly into her mother's arms. Aragorn bent over the bed and Arwen moved to make room for him. They stared at the little child. She was spattered with blood and wet to the touch, but in their eyes she was perfect. Her cheeks were chubby and pleasantly pink, not the unhealthy red of most newborns. The faintest tufts of dark hair gathered at her crown, wet and plastered down. Aragorn touched the tip of her perfect, rounded ears and found a tiny point, distinctly Elven to the touch.

For reverent moments they lay there and cuddled their daughter. Finally, Arwen looked up, tears sparkling in her crystal eyes. "What shall we call her?"

Aragorn spoke tenderly. "It must be perfect. Our little princess, born on Christmas Day."

Arwen looked up in surprise. "Is it Christmas?"

Aragorn smiled and kissed her lightly. "It is indeed. Merry Christmas to you, meleth nin."

Arwen's face lit up as the baby moved her fingers experimentally and touched her mother's face. "Our little angel! We shall call her Silmiesin, our Christmas Star."

"Star of Winter," murmured Aragorn, liking the name and the translation. "Beautiful little Silmiesin. Is that your name?" he asked the child. She gurgled in response and the King laughed. "I guess so."

Arwen was crying softly. "I have a daughter," she said, as if the thought had just occurred to her. 

Aragorn kissed the top of her head. "She's almost as beautiful as her mother." _And that's the truth,_ he thought, looking at his lovely wife holding their beautiful daughter. The light from the snow outside glistened through the window, bathing the two women he loved most in radiant shimmer. _They're perfect. Absolutely perfect._

And in the dining hall, the curtains opened. Legolas stepped out and cleared his throat. _Oh, great,_ thought Faramir. _We're really in for it now._

Review, or I shall be desolate. And you wouldn't want that. 

Oh, shut up. That was rhetorical.


	6. White Christmas

****

A Very Gondor Christmas

By The Last Evenstar

****

A/N: I've been working my butt off to get this last installment up and done before Christmas Day. Thank you for sticking with the story so far along and a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, or Kwanza, or whatever it is you celebrate (maybe nothing at all?) to you! One more thing . . . 

Finally I get around to it! I'd like to thank the Academy, and my wonderful reviewers . . .

Becca - I'm glad you liked it, but you think giving birth is GROSS? It's the most natural thing in the world . . . hey, it happened to you once . . . unless you're a robot or something.

The Converted - I'm glad you like it, and, yes, for some reason I just can't seem to lose the custard thing. It follows me everywhere. And as to Eomer, well, it's a stereotype that doesn't work too well with the book, but check out the Riders in the _RotK_ movie . . . LOL . . .

Cerridwen - You are so nice and my biggest reviewer! You win a prize! Let's see, out of custard . . . will figgy pudding do?

Reasonably crazy - Thanks! I didn't even plan for Pippin and Diamond to meet that way, it just happened whilst I wrote! Can't argue with destiny!

Eliza Evenstar - _(in a most charming manner) _Thank you, I try my best. Merry Christmas to you too!

sarah - I'm glad. I am also a LotR/PotC freak.

ME132 - I was so honored to get a review from you, as I am a fan of your stories :). As you can see, the story is now finished.

anamaria evenstar - How strange. I've never met you, but you strike me as such an odd person.

Queen Arwen - Me too. But it's not any fun if no one suffers!

XxPeriwinkleHummingBrdxX - I'm glad. My mom looks at me like that all the time.

Break a Leg Greenleaf - Thank you. I hope Legolas take your advice to heart when he performs in the pageant!

lily - Always glad to hear a compliment. Too bad he never got to make it.

Kevin Branson - I've tried to follow your advice. My muses keep fighting for the silliness. They are punished frequently. No, I don't really speak Quenya, but Silmiesin's name IS translated directly.

Chrystyna Bloom - Here it is.

Lady Enelya - Of course I know they didn't have Christmas then! It was in the author's note!

Kate the Tigress - Oh, it's long gone. All they have now is chaos.

grumpy - A VERY full house. In fact, it goes BEYOND full house. ;)

Gionareth - Indeed. It has been fun.

****

Chapter Six: White Christmas

Silmiesin stretched out her tiny arms and curled up in her cradle, promptly falling asleep. She was washed and dress in a cozy little white nightgown, and Arwen was instantly reminded of Aragorn when he was very, very tired.

"She has your eyes," she whispered. 

Aragorn slid an arm around her waist. "And your beauty." He thought groggily for a moment. "We have a son, don't we?"

Arwen gasped. "Eldarion! Poor thing, he must be worried sick! I haven't seen him in nearly a day!"

Aragorn followed his wife as she struggled weakly down the hall. "Wait! You should be abed –"

Upon entering the Hall, Arwen was greeted with the sight of her son clapping and cheering loudly astride Faramir's shoulders. Noticing her, he cried, "Naneth! I have fun with Fairy-Mirror!"

The Lady Eowyn was laughing hysterically, all traces of her illness faded. "I hope you don't mind our borrowing your son, Highness."

Arwen collapsed weakly into her husband's arms. "I need to lie down. Save Eldarion."

After depositing his exhausted Queen in her bed, Aragorn walked to the middle of the raised platform, ignoring the dancers. "Attention, please!"

At once the congregation grew quiet. Aragorn could hear Pippin's voice continue from a corner. "And then I single-handedly killed a hundred Orcs so Merry could escape –" 

Aragorn cleared his throat, and the hobbit fell silent. "Just after midnight tonight, the Queen gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl." He felt his eyes dampen as gasps of excitement and delight were heard from the audience. "We have named her Silmiesin, or Star of Winter. In three days' time she will have her formal introduction to the people of Gondor." 

The whole room erupted in cheers. Aragorn grinned and motioned to Legolas. "I now leave the night in the very capable hands of Master Legolas Greenleaf."

He made his way back to the bedchamber amidst hearty congratulations and many handshakes. On his way in he glimpsed out the window and chanced to see a spectacular view of the White City, all covered in snow and writhing with festivity. _Merry Christmas, my people,_ he thought, then headed back to his wife and daughter, both sleeping soundly.

Faramir watched in a kind of despite-himself-reverent awe as the trumpets began to sound and the lights came up on a scene of an inn and a stable. However, he felt himself chuckle as Gimli entered from the left, leading a blue-clad Legolas in on a donkey. The elf wore a flowing silk dress and a heavy veil, but the long golden hair and pointy ears gave him away. They paused before the makeshift inn, and the dwarf rapped on the door authoritatively.

Beregond of the Tower Guard peeped his head out. "There's no room left! Go away!"

Gimli raised his axe. "Why you insolent –"

The man yelped and withdrew. "Go to the stable! You can stay there!"

Legolas turned the donkey to move on, but the dwarf wasn't satisfied. "Free of charge?" he asked suspiciously.

Beregond nodded enthusiastically. "Free of charge!" He gulped as the axe twirled menacingly.

An annoyed Gimli and a reverent Legolas settled into the stable. The lights dimmed for a moment, and came up on a flock of hobbits trying in vain to herd a mass of sheep toward the stable.

At a frantic cue from Legolas, they lights moved back to the stable itself, catching a rapturous elf lift a squirming puppy dog wrapped in swaddling out of the manger. Gimli peered at it suspiciously. "Doesn't look much like me, that's for sure."

Legolas spoke melodiously. "I think the resemblance is striking."

The dwarf dove at his friend, sending the startled puppy into the crowd. "Why, you –"

Eldarion held the struggling animal up before Faramir. "Look, Fairy-Mirror, I've got a doggy!"

Eowyn tried to keep a straight face. "It looks just like you, my love."

Faramir groaned. "My wife and liege turned against me! Eowyn, you certainly have a way with children."

She grinned slyly. "Does that mean we can have some of our own?"

"Are you joking? It means I'm running away to be a barkeep at the Prancing Pony."

The Prince regarded him. "Fairy-Mirror, you certainly have a way with women," he imitated, causing Eowyn to erupt once more in unstoppable peals of laughter.

The small boy frowned. "I'm going to find my Ada and be a ranger." With that, he marched off, and the Steward joined his wife in laughter.

Arwen woke early in the morning to the shrill cries of her new daughter. She rubbed her eyes and looked around groggily. Next to her, Eldarion and her husband were snuggled deep in the covers. She grinned at the sight and made her way sleepily to comfort the baby.

Aragorn looked up sleepily as Arwen brought Silmiesin over to the bed. "Eldarion." He nudged his son. "Wake up. We have someone for you to meet."

Eldarion mumbled sleepily. "Is it my pony?"

Aragorn looked taken aback. "How did you know we got you a pony?"

The boy sat up sleepily. "Eyore-Mer told me."

The King grinned and shook his head. "This is someone else. Someone more important."

The boy was puzzled. "More important than a pony?"

Arwen smiled and showed Eldarion the child in her arms. "This is your baby sister, Silmiesin."

Eldarion looked at her open-mouthed. "How did I get a sister?"

She smiled gently. "She came to us last night. Go on, you can touch her, but be gentle."

The boy reached out and hesitantly stroked his sister's head. "Hello, Sil-wee-ay-sin. I'm your brother Eldarion. Don't call me Elly." He looked up at his mother. "She doesn't do much, Naneth."

His parents laughed. "She will in time," smiled Arwen. "I'm sure that Uncle Elladen and Uncle Elrohir can give you instruction in how to make her life miserable."

Eldarion smiled vaguely and fell back against Aragorn, sucking his thumb and returning to sleep. Silmiesin, too, was drifting off. 

From way across the hall they could hear Eomer and the Rohirrm starting up another song.

"I'm dreaming of a White Christmas,

"Just like the ones I used to know."

Arwen looked over at her husband and smiled. "Merry Christmas, my lord."

He returned her gaze. "And to you, meleth nin." He yawned. "Did you get me a pony?"

She rocked her daughter absently and grinned. "I tried, but I had too much trouble wrapping it."

He laughed softly. "I love you, Arwen Undomiel."

Arwen sank back into bed, careful to mind the fragile child she held. "I wish all of our Christmases could be like this."

Aragorn nodded. "Mmmmmm."

They heard Eomer and his band finish up with a flourish.

"And may all your Christmases be White."

****

THE END

(in case you didn't notice)

****

A/N: And here in Baltimore, it rains. Oh, well. 'Tis all good.


End file.
